


Just Eat The Stew

by Dogwood



Series: More Than Most [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emprise du Lion, F/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:52:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogwood/pseuds/Dogwood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan and Sera kick back in a toasty hot spring, while Solas and Iron Bull have the less fun task of making dinner back at camp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Eat The Stew

Lavellan breathed in sharply as she slipped a bare foot into the steaming pool, the bubbling mineral water a curiously opaque shade of blue. “This one’s hot, but it’s not as scalding, Sera. It may be alright.”

“And it doesn’t smell like eggs?”

“It smells like…” She leaned forward, sweeping her hair behind an ear. "It smells like clay. And like wet rocks, but that’s about it.“ Tentative, searching for the bottom, she slid her other foot into the water, the bare skin of her thighs cooling against the rock at the edge of the pool.

"And if we end up smelling like eggs it’ll still be better than smelling like… whatever it is we usually smell like.”

“Aw, I’m pretty sure that’s piss. Like horses and demon guts and piss.”

“I’ll admit to the first two, anyway…”

Sera hissed as she slid into the pool, and when she stood up straight the water came to just below her slim hips. She wrinkled her nose and shifted from one foot to the other.

“Shouldn’t have done that so fast, too hot on my bits.”

The snow had tapered off since they’d set up camp that morning, but the odd flake still drifted down from the slate skies. There seemed to be no blue sky in Emprise du Lion - it was always either snowing, about to snow, or just finishing up. Lavellan watched as a delicate flake flitted along by her nose, carried by the winter breeze, only to melt away to nothing the moment it touched the surface of the water.

Following Sera’s cue, she eased herself into the water, finding a natural seat among the submerged rocks and sinking in up to her breasts.

“So. What’s good about ‘im?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You know who. You’re smart and funny and he’s old and not, so there’s gotta be something else, right?”

Lavellan arched her back, letting the hot water soothe her aching muscles. In an ideal world she would ignore the question and Sera would move on to talking about, well, _anything_ else, but the look on Sera’s face told her she would have no such luck.

“I have a feeling this is a question you don’t truly want an answer to.”

Sera’s laugh was low and delighted, and her eyes sparkled with mirth as she sunk further into the water. “Does he tell you all about the history of the people while he bends you over the desk?”

“Sera.” He might, but as of yet she had no way of knowing. She’d slept on his shoulder once, and made a point of embracing him whenever they had a moment to themselves, but opportunities for that avenue of romance were few and far between.

“…do you make his veil tingle?”

“I’m not even sure what that _means_.”

There was a pause. “You do…” she said, barely a whisper, and gradually submerged herself up to her nose, watching Lavellan with keen interest.

Well. She didn’t get to be the leader of the Inquisition without getting her hands dirty.

“I saw you were bunking with Blackwall again last week.”

“Oh shut it! I know what you’re doing!” Sera was standing almost immediately, the water splashing over the edge of the mineral pool and into the surrounding snow. “Was talking about you and old man dusty books.”

“And I was just talking about Blackwall’s beard.”

Sera’s laugh was one of unmitigated joy. “That’s gross. Have you seen his feet?”

***

“Girls are naked.”

Iron Bull stood at the edge of the tree line, squinting towards the springs, a hand shielding his eyes from what little sun remained. 

When his announcement met with no reply, he turned to peer expectantly at Solas, bent over a pot of simmering stew.

“I cannot imagine why you might be looking at me.”

“You’re not even a _little_ interested?”

Solas knocked the wooden spoon he was holding against the rim of the thick iron pot. “I am interested only in keeping our dinner from burning at present.” Which wasn’t entirely true, though he didn’t care to admit that, especially not to a Qunari spy trained in the art of body language.

Bull made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, turning back to the view at hand. “Wish I’d thought of that.”

“The pools have been there a thousand years, I doubt they will go anywhere over the course of the next day.”

“Yeah, but… there’s naked chicks in there _now_.”

Against his better judgement, his gaze darted in the direction Iron Bull was looking, but from his position by the fire Solas saw only trees and nearby scrub. Which was probably for the best, he thought. If they’d wished for company they would’ve asked for it. And even if they’d asked for it he would’ve felt the need to decline.

A peal of raucous laughter broke the calm of the camp site, followed by a lower, lighter note of delight. The first Sera, the second - the more musical laugh - was hers.

“She’s cute - doin’ alright for yourself.”

“I do not remember asking for your opinion.”

“Little thin for me, but you just got to get creative together.”

Solas looked up peevishly from the meal. “What exactly are you doing?”

Bull shrugged. “Conversation.” He rolled his shoulders, shifting the tense muscles there, then turned away from the trees and stepped closer to the fire.

“So what’s for dinner?”


End file.
